


Ring Dang Doo

by Manuscriptor



Category: Red Dead Redemption 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur drinks Respect Women Juice, Cold Feet, F/M, First Time, I'm too tired to name them all, Jack is aged up don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 13:24:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18250739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manuscriptor/pseuds/Manuscriptor
Summary: Now that Jack is older, he finally realizes what that campfire song everyone sang is about.OrJack gets cold feet during his first time and the gang will probably never let him live it down.





	Ring Dang Doo

**Author's Note:**

> [This song](https://youtu.be/Iu3gx5p1h5o) in case anyone is wondering
> 
> tell me if something needs to be tagged

For Jack’s eighteenth birthday, the gang celebrated. They celebrated in their signature way of taking him into the nearest town, sitting him down at the bar, and shoving a tankard the size of his head into his hand.

Jack knew what the amber liquid was, obviously. You didn’t grow up with the gang without knowing what alcohol was. And Jack had even had sips of it here and there. He had never gotten really drunk but tipsy was a familiar thing for him. Apparently, he was finally old enough to drink with them all, and not just the mouthful here and there stolen from the flask of one camp member or another. Apparently, he was old enough to drink and drink _hard_.

And you didn’t say no when everyone in the gang was surrounding you, chanting your name, and urging you to guzzle down the jug of alcohol.

Jack drank.

He drank a lot. A lot more than he usually did. Which was not a lot at all.

Every glass was replaced with another one as soon as it was empty, and Jack couldn’t let down all the expectant stares and smiles. They were all drinking with him too and toasting his new age and how old he was getting.

“You’ll finally be able to come on the runs with us,” Dutch said, clapping him stoutly on the shoulder, overly friendly with the alcohol in his stomach. “Just wait until you hit your first stagecoach. You never look back after that!”

“You’d better now be corrupting my son now,” Abigail said, sipping at her own watered-down apple mead though she was sitting at the opposite end of the bar. She had promised not to hover too much in honor of the celebration but at some point she had to draw the line.

“Corrupting the boy?” Susan said. She had been matching Jack drink for drink so far but wasn’t nearly as far gone as him, more experienced enough to hold her own alcohol than he was. She was rowdy and happy with the celebration and with the chance to drink, all smiles and laughs and familiar touches. “You don’t think we’ve already done that so far?”

“If we haven’t, then we haven’t been doing our jobs,” Arthur said with a laugh, holding up his drink and giving Jack a nod.

Jack managed to return a shaky smile of his own and took a sip of his drink.

After drinking for so long and having nothing to prepare him for the night, Jack felt more than a little sick to his stomach, but he couldn’t turn down a toast. And the whole gang kept. On. Toasting.

“Just let the boy have a little fun,” Ms. Grimshaw said from her own spot hunched over the bar. She was slowly sipping from her own glass, content to take her time and watch fondly as the rest of the gang had fun. “No need to push him to do anything. God knows he’s seen hell twice with all of us going at it.”

Arthur rolled his eyes but toasted the words with a smile. The rest of the group cheered and drank to that. Jack had no choice but to swallow down his lunch and take a drink along with them all. Not that it was bad or that he didn’t like spending so much time around the rest of the gang.

Actually, quite the opposite. Jack like being treated like an adult alongside everyone else.

So he took his drink like the rest of them and did his best not to grimace too much, lest he draw the attention and laughs from everyone else.

“It’s the boy’s damn birthday!” Dutch declared loudly. “Let him live up his life!”

The group cheered and held up another toast, clapping each other on the backs.

“What’s this I hear about a birthday?” a new voice said.

The whole group turned as one to look the woman who had spoken up and down. She was dressed a bit scandalously, a dress—short skirt, loose sleeves, and a corset that pushed her chest up and out, accentuating her . . . assets. She had her wild red hair tied up on top of her head, but had it been lose, it would have tumbled down her back in barely controlled curls. She looked them all up and down in return, a mischievous smile curving her painted lips.

“Well?” she said when no one said a thing. “Where’s this lucky lad?”

Someone clapped Jack on the shoulder—probably Bill, the bastard—and someone else shoved him forward. Jack stumbled and almost spilled his drink as he was very suddenly face-to-face with the woman’s tits.

And Jack blushed to think of them as thus.

“Jack-a-boy here is celebrating another year,” Dutch said helpfully. “We’re all just along to make sure he had a good time of it.”

“A good time of it, eh?” the woman said, eyeing Jack up and down and giving him a wink. “Then you should let Miss Licorice show you what a good time is. Free of charge for the lucky lad.” She wiggled her hips at him and puffed out her chest even more.

Someone whistled sharply, and then everyone was laughing and cheering. Jack didn’t even have to turn around to know that they were toasting his embarrassment. He wanted to curse them, with all the words he had heard them use before.

But he couldn’t take his eyes off of . . . . Miss Licorice.

Jack swallowed hard and took a deep swallow of alcohol just to give himself something to do.

“Well then, go on, lad,” Sean shouted from near the back of the group. “I’d say it’s about time.”

“Well, I never!” Abigail said, slamming a hand down on the wooden bar top. “Jack, you and I are going back to camp right this instant and—”  

“Oh, pipe down,” Dutch said. “Respect the young woman’s job, Miss Marston. You used to do the same thing back in the day if I recall. She’s just trying to make some coin.”

“Not making any coin if she’s handing it out for free,” Abigail huffed but didn’t protest further.

Jack almost wished she had continued to protest until Miss Licorice grabbed his hand, and then all logical thought was out the window. Jack smiled stupidly as she pulled him forward, away from the group and towards the stairs that led to the second story of the bar. His stomach still flipped with nerves, but he certainly didn’t want to give up a chance like this. On his birthday no less!

“So your name’s Jack, is it?” Miss Licorice asked, pulling Jack up the stairs. She hitched her skirts up though there was no threat of tripping, and there was a flash of milky white skin.

Jack swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

Miss Licorice giggled. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you.”

She pushed open a room on the second floor and gestured for Jack to go inside.

It was sparsely furnished with the only real pieces of furniture being the bed in the middle of the room, a small side table next to that, and a dresser with a vanity pushed up against the far wall. There were no windows, as this was one of the inner bedrooms, so a few lanterns were screwed into the walls at eye level to provide the room with light.

Miss Licorice pushed the door closed behind them, giving them all the privacy they would need.

“And now,” she said, slipping off the shoulders of her dress with a sly smile. “A present for the birthday boy.”

Jack . . . . really didn’t know what to expect. Once, when he was younger and a bit more curious, he had tried sneaking over to the woman’s side of the camp when they were due for a bath day. Arthur had caught him though and beaten the respect of woman into him, and Jack hadn’t tried it again since.

Not that being with the gang didn’t have any amount of clothes being on an off at any given moment. Karen, more than once, had had to strip off her top when a bullet struck her in the shoulder or stomach and the wound needed dressing. And Jack of course had been there heating water and getting Ms. Grimshaw the rags she needed to do her work. Not much time to stop and stare and nobody was gonna let him try either.

Miss Licorice slid the top down and turn to face him, smiling cheekily when Jack could do nothing but gape and stare.

“Take your time, darling,” she said, sitting back on the bed and throwing her legs wide. “Just know that I do get impatient.”

Jack swallowed and just stared for a heartbeat longer before stupidly realizing he should take his own shirt off. No point in keeping all of his clothes on. He shucked it off quickly and threw it to the ground, next to Miss Licorice’s own top.

“Come on up, dear,” she said, patting the bed next to her with the invitation. “Whenever you happen to be ready, and we can start.”

Start?

Jack gulped.

But he dutifully climbed up onto the bed, trying to settle next to her. Miss Licorice spread her legs though, taking up too much space and forcing him to kneel in between them. It was a bit awkward, and Jack could feel his cheeks burning like a campfire.

Oh yeah. He was here for a reason.

“Here,” Miss Licorice said with a wink. “Let me help you, sweet.”

She reached down and lifted her hips, hiking up the skirt and shimmying out of the pantaloons that were underneath. Jack’s mouth was dry as she tossed them aside and only a single layer was left between Jack and . . . and . . . .

“Do you want to do the favors?” Miss Licorice asked, reclining back against the pillows and stretching herself out like a cat, offering up her body to him.

Jack was almost scared to touch her, having experience with barnyard cats and knowing that, the moment you tried to scratch their stomachs, they would bite your hand. No matter how soft their fur looked or how much begging they did, every time was a trap it seemed.

His hands were shaking as he reached out and traced a line up her inner thigh. The skin was soft and hairless, so different from anything Jack had known before that he shivered for himself. Stupidly.

Miss Licorice laughed.

“When I said take your time, I didn’t think you’d be this slow,” she said teasingly. “Don’t be shy now, you’ve got me right where you want me.” She stared up at him through half-lidded eyes, lips parted and mouth open expectantly.

Jack swallowed and figured he couldn’t put it off much longer.

As his fingers hooked into the hem of Miss Licorice’s knickers, she pulled him down into a kiss so that he didn’t have to watch what he was doing. He managed to clumsily pull the garment down to her knees before getting stuck. From there, she kicked them off for herself. She was still holding his face, kissing him just as hard as when they started, her tongue twirling in his mouth in a way that Jack didn’t know how to mimic. He felt like he should be doing something but he didn’t know what.

He pushed down his own underpants then for something to do. They were starting to get a bit tight anyway as his skin blushed and things got too warm. As soon as he was free, Miss Licorice grabbed his hands and placed them on her chest, forcing him to grope her, the flesh hot and soft under his palms.

Finally, Jack pulled away with a gasp for breath, managing to glance down to see what he had to do.

“Yeah, fuck me,” Miss Licorice said breathily, leaning back on the pillows and thrusting her hips up at him as if they were an offering.

Jack wasn’t sure what he had been expecting but what he saw wasn’t it.

Miss Licorice was bare between her legs, missing the normal cock and balls that Jack had seen on every man. Obviously he knew that men and woman were different. He wasn’t _that_ stupid. But it never struck him just how different they would be. She was also bare of any hair, a thing that Jack had gotten used to when bathing with everyone else at the camp. He swallowed hard and tried not to stare too much, not sure what was polite and what wasn’t.

“Here,” Miss Licorice said, reaching down and spreading herself open.

Jack stared for a moment longer, his mind trying to compare what he was seeing to something he had already seen.

Jack _stupidly_ thought that _stupid_ campfire song everyone sang. It was a favorite of literally the entire camp, and anytime that Javier got out the guitar, it was one of the first ones requested. Jack had never given it much thought because it had never made any sense.

Not until now.

“Put it in,” Miss Licorice urged, not noticing his inner struggle or perhaps thinking he was just nervous.

Jack _was_ nervous.

But he wasn’t _just_ nervous.

His stomach flipped the way it always did when he was nervous, but the room was also spinning from all the alcohol he had had.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say before leaning over the side of the bed and emptying his stomach onto the floor.

On one hand, it was nice to get all that alcohol out of himself since the room had been spinning ever since the third or fourth drink. On the other hand, Miss Licorice was cursing in surprise, pulling herself away from him and scrambling not to get anything on her. She pulled together her remaining garments and curled into a ball as far away from Jack as possible, but at least she didn’t jump out of the bed.

“Well,” she said with an only slightly strained laugh that then quickly turned into authentic giggling. “I’ve never had a man react to my snatch that way.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said and groaned as his stomach continued to heave. “I don’t think . . . I don’t think I can . . .”

“There, there,” Miss Licorice said, rubbing his shoulders as he bent double over the bed. “You just take your time, darling, no point in doing anything if you’re gonna be sick about it. You can save it for your wife as a good Christian man and like.”

Jack couldn’t find the words or the strength to reply. He had had a _lot_ of alcohol that was now exiting his body as fast as it could. He felt the bed dip as Miss Licorice stood, and he listened to her pull her clothes back on. A single pat on his shoulder and a kiss to the temple was his goodbye, and then she was gone.

The room now empty except for himself.

Jack heaved one last time, deemed his stomach finally empty, and rolled onto his back in the middle of his bed. He tilted his head just enough to spit out the bile that coated his mouth, but he didn’t have the strength for much else.

That stupid song.

That stupid, stupid song.

Jack wanted to vomit all over again but he didn’t have anything left. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling and tried to erase the mental image of Miss Licorice that was now burned into his eyes.

Oh God. That _stupid_ song.

The camp was going to be laughing at him for weeks when they found out about this.

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on Tumblr @manuscript-or


End file.
